


the second morning

by Nudelherz



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: God (mentioned) - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, falling, i guess??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nudelherz/pseuds/Nudelherz
Summary: It was the second morning after the world hadn’t ended, and the first after they both had been, quite officially, kicked out by their respective sides.Aziraphale fiddled with his thumbs. He was glad, of course, that things had gone as they did. Really, out of all possible outcomes, this was probably the best they could end up with. And yet. Yet.





	the second morning

**Author's Note:**

> i word vomited all of this from 3:30am to 5am, then turned around and saw the sun shining in through my window. i started crying at that.  
> then i send this to my friends, and THEN i was out cold for a solid eight hour nap that caused me to miss walking the dog. thats how we DO people!!!!!
> 
> special thanks to nic for proofreading this!! ily man <3

It was the second morning after the world hadn't ended, and the first morning after Aziraphale had taken a rather delightful bath in Hell.

  
A beam of sunlight was winding its way into Anthony J Crowley's bedroom, weaving through the half closed blinds, sneaking up at the foot of Crowley’s more than enormous bed, and up, up, ever so slowly, carefully avoiding to fall on Crowley’s sleeping face (the sunlight had done that once, before the demon had been ready to wake up, and it had never regretted anything more) before finally landing on Aziraphale’s face. The angel was sitting, rather than laying, in bed, and tried to remain relaxed.

It was the second morning after the world hadn’t ended, and the first after they both had been, quite officially, kicked out by their respective sides.

Aziraphale fiddled with his thumbs. He was glad, of course, that things had gone as they did. Really, out of all possible outcomes, this was probably the best they could end up with. And yet. Yet.

There was something terrifying about this. He hadn’t particularly liked Heaven, if he was honest, but it did give him some sense of security. It showed him that what he was doing was right, no matter how much he would doubt his own actions. He was an angel, after all - an agent of Heaven.

But now? He wasn’t even sure if that was true anymore. The Almighty had never felt particularly close (aside from the one direct conversation they’d had, 6000 years ago, and that one hadn’t been exactly... ideal), but as it stood right now, She was further away than ever before, and had Her back turned to him. He had lost something, some sort of connection with Her, and he felt it.

Not to mention that he felt every single brushstroke with which the angels up in Heaven crossed his name out of their records. He had winced the first time he had felt it. It was as if a feather had been plucked from his wings, and although he had the physical response under control by now, he could not ignore the metaphysical pain it caused.

Another stroke. Aziraphale almost cursed himself for writing his reports so religiously - it surely would’ve been over quicker had he just reported back once every thousand years. But no, his past self had to keep up a good front to make up for the guilt his and Crowley’s little Agreement had caused him.

Another stroke. Something in him felt as though it was burning away.

The demon on his left stirred in his sleep, and made a noise best described as "ngjkj" as he stretched out his hand to where he suspected his angel’s chest. When he found his legs, instead, there was a quiet, albeit confused "hnff?"

"Good morning, Cro-" another stroke "-owley."

The demons eyes opened slowly, though he squeezed them shut again as soon as he saw just how bright the early sunlight hitting Aziraphale’s face was. He pulled himself upwards a bit, then blinked his eyes open once more. His hair stuck up in quite ridiculous ways, and the folds of the pillow his cheek had been on had left thin red lines that would vanish soon.

Aziraphale smiled at him. But it wasn’t genuine.

"Whasup", Crowley slurred, letting his head fall onto Aziraphale’s lap.

A pained expression flickered over Aziraphale’s face for less than a split second, then another one. His voice shook ever so slightly as he answered.

"They’re throwing me out. You know, Upstairs. Been scratching out my name all night."

It was Crowley’s turn to frown. "Wow. They’re going a lot slower these days, huh? In my days it was just a quick kick in the buttocks and into the fire." He felt Aziraphale tense under him.

His question came out almost soundless. "Am I falling?"

Crowley sat up for what came next. He wasn’t sure what to do, but it didn’t feel right to keep laying down. He took one of Aziraphale’s hands in his, and squeezed gently.

Aziraphale stared right into his eyes, stopping his breathing.

"Crowley. I’m falling."

The second he had said it, he felt like it too. Like the entire ground under him was crumbling up, deep cracks tearing it apart, and he couldn’t hold onto anything, couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t go back- he was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

He sat on his demon's bed, unbreathing, shaking, a tear rolling quietly down his cheek. And then another. And another.

"Shit I-" Crowley didn’t know what to do. He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand again, harder this time, but got no response. The angel's eyes looked straight through him, focused on nothing at all.

"Hey. 'zira. It’s okay. I got you."

The voice was suddenly right next to him, and something at the edge of Aziraphale’s hazy consciousness noted that Crowley had wrapped his arms around his back and pulled him in close. Crowley’s fingers were rubbing gently over his back, and he was whispering as he did so. "It’s alright. I’m here. I’m here."

Life slowly returned to Aziraphale’s body, and he very slowly hugged Crowley back. As soon as his hands had settled on the demon's back, his grip fastened in his shirt, and he couldn’t bring himself to let go.  
Aziraphale let his head drop, forehead resting on Crowley’s shoulder.

"I fell, Crowley. I think I fell."

"Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I caught you. I caught you."

**Author's Note:**

> yes i did stay up till 5am just for that last line. no i dont regret it.


End file.
